


Parabatai

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Immortal Instruments Warm Ups [5]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Black Character(s), Character(s) of Color, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Minor Character Death, The Immortal Cup, racebend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Jace’s friends just died. Alec does what he can to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parabatai

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SarahSyna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahSyna/gifts).



> So forever ago, Sarah prompted me with _Jace/Alec: “I’ll handle this”_ and I thought it was a great way to showcase their relationship. Originaly, this was supposed to be a scene where Jace played the muscles to Alec’s mob-boss-style dealing with an asshole…then I decided to make Jace and Clary black in TII, and I figured that was maybe not the best role to give a black guy…so now we have almost 600 words of Jace being emotionally vulnerable which, on the whole, is a better representation of what being parabatai means to the boys in verse, so it all works out ;)

Alec finds his parabatai on the high plazza of Alicante, sitting at the edge of Raziel’s fountain, back turned to the statue. Behind Jace, the last of sunlight colors Raziel’s bust and the top of the Palace of Justice in various shades of bronze and honey gold while the rest of the official buildings slouch in the shadows—they have, it seems, decided to mimic Jace’s mood. Alec doesn’t linger on the architecture, majestic as it is, and sits next to Jace instead.

They stay silent for a while—Alec, his palms flat on the cooling stone beneath him and Jace, hunched on himself as he stares down at his favorite knife and the whetstone he’s holding in his hands.

 

 

“Don’t worry,” Jace chokes eventually, voice tight, “I’ll handle it.”

 

 

Alec turns to look at his friend—the defeated tilt of his shoulder blades sticking out under the black skin, the thin dusting of coiled hair at the base of his neck—and sighs. He considers giving Jace a back rub—even goes so far as to bring his hand up, the golden bronze of it looking almost white in the dark—but thinks better of it. He closes his eyes instead and reaches for the part of his soul where his and Jace’s parabatai bond resides, opening himself up to it the same way he’d open the curtains in his bedroom to get more light.

His heart speeds up, tightening his throat, and when he finally speaks his voice feels tighter than he’d want it to.

 

 

“I know Pip was your friend—”

“Of course,” Jace snaps, making anger flash inside Alec’s stomach, “ _You_ know everything about _me_.”

 

 

Fear seizes Alec’s throat and chest, and he finds himself closing the bond before he thinks better of it, breathing in deep to soothe himself down. Next to him, Jace curls up in a tighter ball, bringing his knees up to his chest and his head down, until Alec can barely make out the top of his hair, still pearled with water.

 

 

“Sorry,” Jace mumbles through his knees, “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.”

 

 

It’s not—not quite—but that’s not Jace’s fault, and not something Alec wants to discuss right now. He watches Jace’s shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. Slowly, making sure to telegraph his move, Alec brings his hand up—the one with all the fingers—and sets it down at the base of Jace’s neck, rubbing circles into the skin.

The shadows around them make Alec’s hand look freakishly big against Jace’s smaller stature, but he leans into the touch anyway, and Alec sets his forehead down on Jace’s shoulder.

 

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, careful to keep his voice soft. “I really am.”

 

 

Jace snorts. He knows, of course, that Alec could never stand Pip O'Leary—and vice versa, for all that it matters now—but Pip was Jace’s oldest friend, and he died on Dooring day. Anyone would be sorry about that.

Under him, Alec feels Jace’s breathing pause, speed up, grow uneven and shaky. There’s no sound, of course, but when Alec pulls Jace closer, he leans into the hug all the same.

 

Alec pretends not to notice the wet coldness of Jace’s cheeks and holds him tight instead, rocking back and forth in a soothing rhythm. Around them, the few hunters still coming out of the official buildings give them a wide berth, tactfully pretend not to see them while Alec makes soothing noises in Jace’s hair and says:

 

 

“It’s okay Jace. We’ll handle this.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions or about the _Immortal Cup_ Verse, you can hit me up at my tumblr [here](http://terresdebrumestories.tumblr.com/) :D


End file.
